skin. “Take me to him.”
* * *
Fiona was not surprised to learn it was Dr. Straw who had stabbed Bess’s rescuer, for Bess had done nothing but prattle on about the attack during their interminable walk to the brothel. Fiona only listened with half an ear; her sense of reason had seemed to flee after the prostitute described her rescuer, a man named Duncan, with the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“But I got the doctor’s cane,” Bess boasted with a smile in her voice. “He won’t be using it on no one no more. I can’t wait to show the chief of police. He visits our establishment at least once a week. Sometimes he calls on me, but usually he wants one of the younger girls.”
By the time they’d reached the downtown brothel, Fiona’s ears and feet were tired, and her brain had been reduced to mush. After Bess told Fiona of the daring way Duncan had come to her rescue, Fiona’s throat constricted with the memory of the fateful night he had saved her from the drunken knights with no regard for his own safety. And now she would be face-to-face with him for the first time in almost five centuries.
How many times she’d wanted to turn back and leave Duncan to his fate, for what other Duncan could have been in the prostitute’s bed but her former mate? Duncan may have been a murderous dragonslayer, but when it came to defenseless mortal women, he wasn’t lacking in chivalry. No matter how badly her desire for justice for the murder of her mother, she could not leave him to die.
And that’s when she realized her sad state. Though the bond had been severed like a feather let loose in the wind, she was still very much in love with Duncan MacQuoid. She ascended the stairs with heavy feet and an even heavier heart, ignoring the glares from the women in thick face paint as they danced for their male companions.
Fiona shouldn’t have been surprised when she walked into Bess’s room and saw him lying there, his face ashen and his body as lifeless as a corpse. It was her fault he was dying. If she hadn’t broken the bond….
Fiona mentally chided herself for her regrets. It was what she’d wanted, to be free of the torment of being attached to a mate she was forbidden to love.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, she gravitated toward Duncan’s bed, the numbness in her hands and feet spreading throughout her. She pulled back the sheets and grimaced when she saw the ooze pouring out of the sloppy stitching.
He tossed his head to the side and moaned.
Fool that she was, her heart broke for him.
“Is it that bad?” Bess whispered as she stood beside her.
Fiona was momentarily stunned, having forgotten Bess was in the room. “Aye, it is bad,” she growled. As Fiona eyed the sewing needle and bandages on Bess’s small, dusty armoire, she realized Bess had probably stitched him up, most likely causing him more harm than good with a dirty needle and a shaky hand.
Bess turned pleading brown eyes to Fiona as she struck a prayer pose. “Please tell me. Can you heal him or not?”
“I-I don’t know.” Fiona looked at Duncan again. Her shock was slowly subsiding, replaced by fear and doubt. What if he tried to kill her after she healed him? He was a dragonslayer, after all.
You’re lying to yourself, Fiona. You know he would never harm you.
Fiona cringed. The voice echoing in her conscience sounded too much like her mother. For too many years, she’d tried to convince herself Duncan was a threat, but deep in her soul, she knew the real reason she’d run from him. It was because of her traitorous heart, not Duncan. She’d fled because, fool that she was, she continued to love the man who’d murdered her mother.
Bess dipped a cloth in ice water and draped it across Duncan’s forehead. “You have to do something. He risked his life to save me.”
Fiona had no reason to be jealous. Duncan was no longer her mate and free to love whom he pleased, but Bess’s attentiveness was disconcerting. Fiona
* * *
Fiona was not surprised to learn it was Dr. Straw who had stabbed Bess’s rescuer, for Bess had done nothing but prattle on about the attack during their interminable walk to the brothel. Fiona only listened with half an ear; her sense of reason had seemed to flee after the prostitute described her rescuer, a man named Duncan, with the palest blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“But I got the doctor’s cane,” Bess boasted with a smile in her voice. “He won’t be using it on no one no more. I can’t wait to show the chief of police. He visits our establishment at least once a week. Sometimes he calls on me, but usually he wants one of the younger girls.”
By the time they’d reached the downtown brothel, Fiona’s ears and feet were tired, and her brain had been reduced to mush. After Bess told Fiona of the daring way Duncan had come to her rescue, Fiona’s throat constricted with the memory of the fateful night he had saved her from the drunken knights with no regard for his own safety. And now she would be face-to-face with him for the first time in almost five centuries.
How many times she’d wanted to turn back and leave Duncan to his fate, for what other Duncan could have been in the prostitute’s bed but her former mate? Duncan may have been a murderous dragonslayer, but when it came to defenseless mortal women, he wasn’t lacking in chivalry. No matter how badly her desire for justice for the murder of her mother, she could not leave him to die.
And that’s when she realized her sad state. Though the bond had been severed like a feather let loose in the wind, she was still very much in love with Duncan MacQuoid. She ascended the stairs with heavy feet and an even heavier heart, ignoring the glares from the women in thick face paint as they danced for their male companions.
Fiona shouldn’t have been surprised when she walked into Bess’s room and saw him lying there, his face ashen and his body as lifeless as a corpse. It was her fault he was dying. If she hadn’t broken the bond….
Fiona mentally chided herself for her regrets. It was what she’d wanted, to be free of the torment of being attached to a mate she was forbidden to love.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, she gravitated toward Duncan’s bed, the numbness in her hands and feet spreading throughout her. She pulled back the sheets and grimaced when she saw the ooze pouring out of the sloppy stitching.
He tossed his head to the side and moaned.
Fool that she was, her heart broke for him.
“Is it that bad?” Bess whispered as she stood beside her.
Fiona was momentarily stunned, having forgotten Bess was in the room. “Aye, it is bad,” she growled. As Fiona eyed the sewing needle and bandages on Bess’s small, dusty armoire, she realized Bess had probably stitched him up, most likely causing him more harm than good with a dirty needle and a shaky hand.
Bess turned pleading brown eyes to Fiona as she struck a prayer pose. “Please tell me. Can you heal him or not?”
“I-I don’t know.” Fiona looked at Duncan again. Her shock was slowly subsiding, replaced by fear and doubt. What if he tried to kill her after she healed him? He was a dragonslayer, after all.
You’re lying to yourself, Fiona. You know he would never harm you.
Fiona cringed. The voice echoing in her conscience sounded too much like her mother. For too many years, she’d tried to convince herself Duncan was a threat, but deep in her soul, she knew the real reason she’d run from him. It was because of her traitorous heart, not Duncan. She’d fled because, fool that she was, she continued to love the man who’d murdered her mother.
Bess dipped a cloth in ice water and draped it across Duncan’s forehead. “You have to do something. He risked his life to save me.”
Fiona had no reason to be jealous. Duncan was no longer her mate and free to love whom he pleased, but Bess’s attentiveness was disconcerting. Fiona
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